“Do you know how you’re going to die?” he asked, with a sincere tone that implied this was a question that he had thought long and hard about his own answer to and not one of the silly type of questions that most people liked to throw around on first dates. 

“No” I responded, somewhat caught off guard, “but I did write a will the other week, just because I thought that I should probably have one.” I explained, just sharing that little bit of information because it was honest and true and for no other reason at all. I didn’t realise that the mere mention of life admin involving paperwork would cause him to doom spiral, sharing out loud how stressed he was by the realisation that he didn’t have a will, especially since, as he went on to share, he was almost certainly dying of cancer. Or at least, he had convinced himself he was dying of cancer.

And that little scenario was an outtake from an evening that doesn’t even rank as close to being one of the weirdest dates I’ve been on this year. In fact, for many other reasons it was a perfectly fine date. This was despite the fact that he shared some information that would earn him the nickname ‘Broken Ass Aaron*’ amongst my friendship group. The venue was nice enough, he paid for a couple of drinks and even ordered some chips, and despite the moments when it veered into health care trauma dumping from his side of the fence, the conversation was fun and flowing well enough. That’s the standard we’re working with my friends. And after going on a total of 31 first dates this year (with a few second, third and other subsequent numbers thrown in), it’s a pretty standard standard. Very few of the scenarios I find myself in glow, but they sure do entertain my friends.   

While some dates have been better than others and many have certainly been weirder than expected, the number one thing I’ve learned is that people will often surprise you – and mostly in a pleasant want. The other thing that I’ve discovered is that having an active dating life makes you infinitely more interesting among your friendship group. I’m not sure why I spent years building a broad base of hobbies and ensuring that I was well read and watched all the right movies and TV shows when I could have just been going on hectic dates so I could have something to chat about with my mates. And while I know that deep down my friends do want me to be happy and to find what I’m looking for, there’s absolutely a desire within them for the unhinged stories to just keep coming. And fortunately for them, they just seem to be never ending. 

It’s said that insanity is doing the same thing over again and expecting different results – and if I keep going on these same dates from the same dating apps and expecting things to turn out any differently, am I insane? I’m going to say no, I’m actually a beautiful, hopeful optimist. You’d need to be to imagine that there’s still anything worth looking for out there, at least based on what I’ve seen. So actually, full circle journey, maybe I am insane. 

Across the course of 31 first dates this year I have done my fair share of data collection. And I think the data has helped me to slowly make better choices (read: “doing things ‘differently’ as I go on, and therefore, not insane). However, as shocking as it might be, it did take me almost 9 months before I decided to only go on dates with guys from apps that I found attractive. It took me about 25 dates before I made a strong judgement call to stop thinking “oh but he might have a great personality” and deciding to meet them based only off that. From number 26 onwards it was hotties only. Historically I’ve been one to go for someone based on their personality – but historically hasn’t exactly worked out for me. 

Because it’s the question people always ask, before I wrap up this introductory tale, I’ll give you a sneak peak of what might be ahead (should I be motivated to write more of these tales).

Everyone always asks, “what’s the worst date you’ve been on?” – and that’s a silly waste of a question, because the ‘worst’ aren’t the funniest – but they’re entertaining enough. 

It’s a tie for the two worst dates of the year –it could either be Tramp Stamp Lockie** or Hands Man – they were both equally as ick – though I didn’t realise Hands Man was so bad until the second time I met him, so perhaps he doesn’t count. 

And yes, every date I’ve encountered has earned himself a nickname. Except for one. He was just a nice guy that wasn’t for me. The rest either earned their name early on, making its way into the notebook I’m keeping track of them all in straight after the date (or after a bit of workshopping with my friends), or they started with just their regular old name in the book but as time went on, it became abundantly clear that based on their behaviour, they no longer deserved to be protected. In fact, ‘Hands Man’ actually started out being labelled ‘Lovely Lewis’* but by the end of the second date, the trauma he had inflicted upon me (and specifically my hands) warranted the nickname he is now known by.  

But for now, that’s all you get. Just a preview. Just a couple of their names – or nicknames. I intend to share more, but I’ve got a reputation to build as the ‘fun dating friend’ and I worry that if I spill all my stories too soon, you’ll stop reading. Plus, I’ve gotta keep something up my sleeve – maybe date number 32 will go so well that I’ll stop being able to collect stories and settle down for my happily ever after…. Yeah… right. 

*I would like to say that I have changed people’s names to protect their privacy. But I’ll let you be the judge of whether I am that concerned with protecting said privacy… (Okay, yes, I changed their names, I’m scared of legal repercussions). 

**Actually, in that instance I have kept his real name – Lockie. He was a real knob, so the more people who know his real name, the better. I could even tell you his surname if you wanted – that’s what was he had tattooed as his tramp stamp to earn him the name ‘Tramp Stamp Lockie’. And no, I didn’t see it with my own two eyes, another guy I was on a date with on another night saw it and told me. Because Lockie showed him (I’ll write the tale up some time). Moral of that story: there are risks associated with refusing to leave your suburb to go on dates.